


The Change

by Madness_of_Xara



Category: Dead by Daylight (Video Game)
Genre: short fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-08
Updated: 2017-07-08
Packaged: 2018-11-29 15:38:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 493
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11443899
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Madness_of_Xara/pseuds/Madness_of_Xara
Summary: A little thing I wrote about the Entity and its ways, based off of the lore in regards to the malevolent being.





	The Change

The Entity was always watching.

It was like a breath, gentle and yet cold, against the back of your neck.

When it had a hold of you, there was no escape.

Eventually, you lose hope of ever escaping its nightmarish Hell. With every night ending with either you being pulled into its embrace or returning to the campfire, you could feel that hope fleeing from your body.

The Entity did nothing but take from you.

It took from you your normal life. It threw you into this… this _pit_ of death, continuous and cold. You knew the routine by heart by now: fix the generators and escape, all while avoiding which ever Killer the being had decided to throw at you.

Sometimes, the Killers were too fast for you, too smart. Sometimes, you got lucky and managed to outwit them. Every trial ended with either you on a hook or running out through the exit. Sometimes, you got lucky and found the hatch, if you were the last one standing. Other times… Well, you grew more and more frustrated. You wanted to demand answers, to demand a reason for the Entity to toy with its prey.

But you knew.

When you saw how cold your eyes were one night in a filthy mirror, you knew.

It was toying with you to break you.

To make you into what you ran from _every day of your life_.

To turn you into one of its Killers.

You wished to never live to see the day you begin to hunt your friends. You never wanted to see your hands covered in their blood. You never wanted to hurt them.

At least, that was what you thought.

Over time, you could feel your need to survive grow more and more. What was the point of saving the others if they couldn’t even run from the Killer in the first place? You were stronger than they were, that was why _you_ survived. You survived while the others died. That was your purpose, your goal, one you wouldn’t allow _anyone_ to distract you from. You didn’t notice the slow decline of altruism. You didn’t notice the small amount of relief and glee you felt when you saw the others injured.

You didn’t notice the changes one bit.

Not until it was much too late.

You swiped at one of the Survivors before you, cutting them down to the ground. Their back bled profusely, their top shredded. You cleaned the blade you used to injure them before you approached their crawling form, lifting them over your shoulder.

The Entity paid well for sacrifices. It granted you power, strength… and a way to sate the bloodlust that had started to burn in you so long ago.

As you threw the Survivor from your shoulder to the hook, you felt a warm, delightful feeling wash over you. Their screams were beautiful, but the sight of the Entity stealing them away?

Even better.


End file.
